


Just a Midsummer Day

by WaxDragons



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Other, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, That's it, There is no canon here, at least i think it is, gender neutral reader, just enjoy a nice warm sunny afternoon with the Captain, no betas we die like men, poke me if I missed something and I'll gladly fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaxDragons/pseuds/WaxDragons
Summary: Reader and the Captain chill in the park for a bit. It's a bite sized piece of fluff.__Although you dreamt of being swept into the uniformed arms of a bold lover, you were left with no more than the hulking frame of a tired old man with an equally old camera, setting up to take pictures of swans in the river while the two of you were taking a break from hanging out with some friends you went on vacation to visit.
Relationships: Captain Hans Günsche/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Just a Midsummer Day

**Author's Note:**

> I have a store of stuff I've written for myself (would you believe it?/s) and I fixed one of my sweeter self-indulgences into something that hopefully somebody else can enjoy. 
> 
> It's 8 million lightyears away from canon; either completely removed or a long way after an alternative ending. Just take a moment and pretend that good things can happen, you know? That said, I tried to make it as openly interpretable as possible so you can enjoy it however you like. I wholeheartedly encourage you to tailor it to your heart's content for yourself if that will make you even marginally happier. I'll also admit the Captain is soft in this one and probably at least mildly OOC, but he's also the character equivalent of a slice of plain toast: so I figure bone apple tea. 
> 
> If you notice something that I've missed (somewhere it isn't neutral) please do let me know. I'm more scared of you than you are of me, if that's how any of this works. I hope you enjoy it!

Although you dreamt of being swept into the uniformed arms of a bold lover, you were left with no more than the hulking frame of a tired old man with an equally old camera, setting up to take pictures of swans in the river while the two of you were taking a break from hanging out with some friends you went on vacation to visit.

His presence, you figure, is a testament to his resilience and strength even without a sharp, dark uniform and glittering medallions.

You watch Hans mutely from a few dozen feet away, holding the leash on your friend’s dog while he sniffs around for an interesting place to relieve himself. A warm breeze blows by on the summer air, carrying the laugher of children and chatter of families with it. Somewhere further upstream somebody is having a barbeque if the faint smell is anything to go by.

You raise a hand to your mouth to call out to him for a moment and then hastily decide against it. He looks to be at peace with the world, with his usually stern face somewhat relaxed and his posture finally looser than normal. Instead, you absentmindedly dig the toe of your running shoes into the ground and bite your lip, bringing your hand to your heart and thinking of the recurring fantasy that he’d dress up nicely one day and take you dancing somewhere private.

A slight tug at the leash pulls you away from your thoughts and you look down at the aging English bulldog. “Sir Reginald,” you chide softly as he starts to pull back towards your lover, “you’re getting impatient in your old age.”

Undaunted by your reprimand he continues pulling, earning a soft sigh from you as you reluctantly wander back over to your poorly dressed behemoth. _He_ took dressing to comfort to another level—with an awkwardly long mustard colored t-shirt and a pair of hideously baggy cargo shorts (that you, yourself would also steal on occasion). His ratty old running shoes, ancient camera bag, and somewhat shaggy hair (mercy, did he need a haircut) keep crushing the thought that he’d ever dress sharply for you.

You were marginally better, if anybody asked for your opinion, in a pair of jean shorts with a neat plaid button-up.

Alas, it doesn’t matter. Reggie sets his rear end down on the gentle giant’s foot while he adjusts his camera lens one final time before taking a hopefully pleasing series of swan pictures. You stand beside him and try to enjoy the clicking of the shutter on top of the buzz of life around you.

You want to ask about taking a selfie, but the thought of speaking up again dies in your throat as a paddleboat with two lovers drifts into view. The big guy, content with his picture, stands up to his massive height and stretches before looking down at the dog seated on his foot.

After leaning down one final time to scratch the dog’s head, he turns slightly towards you and takes you in for a moment. Without thinking he grabs his camera from its stand and snaps a picture of your side profile, pensive look etched in every line of your face.

You turn to him at the shutter snap and flush a bit, like when you had first started dating, and he snaps another picture. You were a wonderful muse, in every sense, and he had piles upon piles of pictures of you with many more waiting on undeveloped film. He was a lovestruck bastard, that was for sure.

He makes sure to smile at you, even if it’s incredibly faint, when he finally lowers the camera, and you flounder for a moment before crossing your arms. “Here I was, being quiet to let you focus, and you surprise me with that.”

Hans shrugs and nudges the dog gently off his shoe before stepping towards you and smoothing a bit of frizz that popped up on the side of your head. In response you pout for a moment longer under his perpetually tired yet loving gaze before fidgeting with the leash wrapped around your wrist and looking to the river.

“Can we take a selfie?” you blurt after a prolonged pause. The mountain of a man grunts in acquiescence and moves to pack his antique camera away first. He can feel your hopeful gaze burning into him as he rushes his routine a bit, packing his both his camera and tripod away for later use.

When he turns back to you, you’ve pulled your phone from your pocket and swapped the dog’s leash to your other hand. He takes his place by your side, long arm wrapping low around your waist to let you comfortably press into his side and beam at the camera.

You think he’s criminally warm and comfortable as his arm wraps around your waist and you lean into his side, reaching up with your opposite arm as far as you can. At the last minute you turn, standing on your tip toes, and try your best to reach up and peck his cheek. The phone’s camera barely manages to catch the brief flash of pleased surprise before he turns his head to you and leans down to peck you on the lips.

He’ll swear it up and down that the phone can never catch the true depth of your blush, and he enjoys it immensely when he brings his other arm around you and pulls you in for another kiss as your arm wraps around him. It’s slightly awkward to have your phone held against his head, but he’ll take it as you share a gentle kiss under the warm summer sun in the middle of the park.

Unfortunately for you lovers, Reggie has other plans and starts to pull at the leash, reminding you that you are, in fact, in a public space. You flush a dark color and worm you way out of Hans’ arms as gently as possible. “They’re probably waiting for us to get back from our walk,” you say to him before following the dog’s lead; your friends may have appreciated your offer to walk their lad but the hour you’ve been gone may make them slightly worried.

The tired giant sighs affectionately and follows, blissfully unaware of how the feeling of his muscular arms wrapped around you carried you so, so close to that fantasy you hold deeply and quietly in your heart.

You return to your friend’s and don’t get another moment to yourselves until long in the evening, when you split back to your own hotel room. As soon as you drop your overnight bag on the white duvet of the neatly made king bed, you whirl around to face Hans and clasp your hands together.

“I’ve made up my mind,” you start with a hint of nervousness laced in your determination, “I have a request.” Hans blinks and sets his bag on the lone dresser in the room before turning to give you his full attention. With a slight inclination of his head he urges you on, and you takes a gulp before continuing.

“I think you’d look really sharp cleaned up,” you say, steadily losing power and grinding to a mumble by the time you mention nice dress, “and I’d like to go dancing with you. Somewhere private, just the two of us.”

Though unexpected, the request is welcome and brings a soft smile to his face. He takes a few massive steps towards you before sweeping you into a grand hug that lifts you from the ground and whispering “of course,” in your ear. You squeak and wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders, shuddering at the low rumble in his rarely used voice and letting yourself get set onto bed.

With a rough sigh he drops onto the bed beside you and pulls you with him so you both lie sideways. Pulling you even closer, he butts his forehead to yours and rumbles out “anything for you.”

Of course, weeks later by the time you have another little break to yourselves: his equivalent of cleaned up is just slightly less shaggy hair and a mustard-colored _button-down_ shirt over his cargo shorts and ratty sneakers. But you laugh anyway, having wandered out to the empty local park with him way too late in the evening to waltz around barefoot in the grass, firmly wrapped in his warm and loving arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Hard to believe it's 2021 and I'm still writing this stuff almost exclusively for the Captain, but here we are. (I've got more in progress. All of it is highly removed from canon so I don't know if it merits sharing but there's a good chance I'll post it all anyway).


End file.
